


A Requiem

by Gio_Manes



Series: New Worlds [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Shapeshifting, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gio_Manes/pseuds/Gio_Manes
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: New Worlds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889308





	1. An Old Sight

All that could be heard, were the gusts of wind that flew over the ever-looming mountains of Yaega. Cold and majestic, they were as dark as the early morning sky, both awaiting the warmth of light. As the winds moved to the valleys below, fingers of light started to creep across the sky; slowly turning it to shades of blue and red. With the rising light, sounds of life then came from all directions, creating a massive cacophony of sound that signalled the birth of a new day.

In a village below, nestled amongst the forest of trees that gradually grew taller the deeper you went into it; families rose to start their day, flitting about as their duties called to them. The children would move to find their teachers, and most of the adults report to their roles as the sun rises higher, bearing down on them with its early morning heat and light.

One of the men, freshly bathed and in a hurry, combs through his dark curls and arranges his brightly colored clothes carefully, artfully placing them in order to highlight his claws and scales. He then quickly drapes the sash that denoted his status within the community across his chest. Putting on his piercings that line his ears, nose and lips, he attaches his dagger to his hip and heads out of the door to ready the supplies needed for his departure. Out of his hut, he spots a man with tall horns protruding from his forehead and his red hair styled in intricate braids and beads that reach past his shoulders, striding quickly towards him.

“Mas! You _az’ha_ , you have some explaining to do!”

Mas chuckles, “Can’t this wait Prih? Unlike you I actually have somewhere to go. We can’t all be a responsible parent like you. And why are you speaking in Common? We are Yaegan.”

Prih grunts and grabs Mas by the scruff of his neck and gently shakes him, “You forgot to give me your report Mas! As I’m the person in charge of healing you, you can’t leave until I read and approve your report, not to mention that I have to check your health again. Just because you’re heading off to the capitol doesn’t mean that you can skip procedure! If you even think of delaying this further so help me. . .” He breaks off with a sigh, “You still have to meet with _llithlle`-un_ before you go.”

Mas scoffs, and says “Look, I’ll have time to meet them. And I’m fine Prih! You examined me yesterday, and if you examine me today it’ll be the same—"

Prih cuts him off with a scoff of his own and another shake. “Right, well procedure is procedure Mas, we need to do this else everything will be as disorderly as a Feras pit. And Common is part of our languages too, you _az’ha_ , so don’t try to sass me.” 

Grinning mischievously, Mas twists to poke Prih in the stomach. Narrowly avoiding the finger, Prih accidentally drops Mas to the ground and starts to apologize until Mas tackles him, they both then start to grapple, laughing and cursing at each other. 

“ _Ichasih’ll”,_ a woman greeted.

Alarmed, both of them immediately jumped apart to fix their respective sashes. Looking at each other with a chagrined expression, they then turn to face a severe black-haired woman, iridiscent feathers spread across her arms and face, as she approaches them. She gestures her clawed hands towards them, arms tattooed with a dizzying array of geometric patterns, and tuts disapprovingly, ‘Identify your name and rank.’ She says in Yaegan.

Immediately Prih brings his hands together and bows, “ _Ichasih’ll djawen_ , I am _Prih’nghth Iphllasme`_ and I am an _Arrbu_ rank 2 _._ We apologize for the inappropriate display.”

Mas holds back an eyeroll and copies the gesture, “ _Ichasih’ll djawen_ , I am _Hoonthe`rrza Masne`,_ I am a _Kasza_ rank 2. _Arrbu_ Prih was just reminding me about protocol.”

The woman raises her eyebrow and says ‘Protocol? I see. . .’ she scowls, and shifts her feet, ‘I am here to inspect the outbound forces and supplies heading to _Hih’ngh Thre`._ When I arrived however, I noticed that there was none to welcome me.’

Prih colors and opens his mouth to speak, Mas, noticing this, steps forward; bringing the woman’s attention towards him. Mas grins charmingly, spreads his hands in a placating manner, and shifts to Yaegan ‘Apologies _djawen_ , that would have to be our fault. We are prepared, but only half of us are ready to leave for _Hih’ngh Thre`_. We were told to be fully ready by midday, and that you would arrive around that time as well. Please allow us to make any reparations for the inconveniences caused.’

Prih started to add more, but stopped when he saw the woman raise her hand. A confused frown on her face, she says, ‘Midday? That is not what the _djawenor_ of this village told me. This must be a miscommunication issue,’ She softens her expression as she looks them both over in contemplation and says, ‘I will go then to the village hall, maybe I can make myself useful until then.’ She gives a soft smile, and Mas and Prih relax a little, glad that this encounter hasn’t escalated. She nods to say goodbye, and the both of them bow in respect as she turns to leave.

As she moves deeper into the morning crowd, both Mas and Prih give off a sigh of relief. Mas turns to Prih, gives a sly smile and says “ _Hay_ , that turned out well! Im expecting a written letter and a basket of fruit as part of your thanks.”

Prih groans, “Right and what should I thank you for exactly?”

“Hey I saved both our asses! My charming self wins as always.” Mas replies, chuckling all the while.

Prih grunts, “Well, your charming self still needs to give me that report. And attend that checkup.”

Mas rolls his eyes, “Fine grumpy.”

“Follow me then Mas.” Prih replies, giving him a wry smile.

Grabbing Mas’s report inside his hut, they both head off to the village clinic, located within the market. As they enter the square, their sensitive noses immediately smell the various scents that fill the market, finally announcing their arrival to their location. Mas notes the conversations that flit to and fro within the area, ranging from topics as serious as the nearest period of the Hunt to mundane activities such as what to buy for their next meals. As they move through the crowd greetings are thrown their way and the pair greets them all in return. As Prih moves ahead as a guiding point, one conversation causes Mas to pause. Breaking away from Prih, he sidles up to a stall and smiles handsomely at the stall owner. The stall owner blushes, and moves to handle another customer. Satisfied that he can eavesdrop in peace, he fiddles with the gold rings that the stall owner put on display. Straining his senses, he releases a relieved sigh when he catches them midconversing. 

_‘—you hear? A young one was exiled.’_

_‘What? No! But this batch was so promising! I heard they excelled in everything.’_

_‘I know. Poor child, they failed the Trial of Rebirth, one can only think on how much despair their whole—’_

“By all things created Mas! Come! I thought you were in a _hurry_.” 

Mas startles. Dropping the jewellry, he readies an apologetic smile and turns to face a scowling Prih. 

Folding his arms, Prih glares at Mas and says, “Jewellry? You stopped to look at some jewellry?”.

Mas looks at Prih guiltily and says, “Well you know I have a weakness for gold, Prih.” 

Prih looks at him skeptically. Narrowing his eyes, he looks over at Mas and takes a moment to properly observe their surroundings. Finding nothing in particular, he grabs Mas by the shoulders and moves him away from the stall. “Come on then, let’s move.”

Keeping an iron grip on Mas, they maneuver through the crowd until they finally move to a stop at the door of the clinic. Facing Mas, Prih motions his head to the door and enters. As Mas steps through the door, he is immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of blood and medicinal herbs. Covering his nose, he moves past the occupied beds, until he spots his youngest teammate getting medical attention and catches Prih’s attention as he gasps in shock. Confused, Prih looks in the direction Mas is facing and pales as he notes the bloody bandages on their forehead and how they hold their bandaged arm. In tandem, they instinctively move towards them. 

As their teammate hears the two of them approach, they look up and quickly give them an unconvincing smile upon seeing their expression. “ _Unzaib_ ! _Terzaib_! How nice to see you—” 

Prih growls, “Cut the bullshit _llithlle`-un,_ why do you have a gash on your forehead! And a sprained arm from the looks of it. Last I checked, the _Arrbu_ in charge of you told you to do nothing extreme!” 

The _Arrbu_ tending to them, noticing the mood, nods at Prih and quickly moves away. 

Their expression falling even further, she tries to muster a smile and says, “Well it’s a funny story actually _unzaib_ , you see I was climbing this tree—” 

Prih cuts them off with a wave of his hand and opens his mouth to start scolding them about the dangers of improper tree climbing, until Mas lopes an arm around his shoulder and sends him a look. Prih stutters, looks at their teammate’s guilty frown and settles down. 

Mas pats him on the head and sits down next to their teammate. Looks at them endearingly and says, “Tell me little bird, what animal needed tending today?”

They huff, “It wasn’t an animal _terzaib_!”

He pats their arm comfortingly and points to their injuries. “Then what is this about little bird?”

They blush and fiddles with their bandages, Prih tuts and moves their hands away. Not meeting their eyes, they sigh. “Well, I knew that _terzaib_ was heading to the capitol today, and I thought that maybe I can prepare a farewell trinket! That, and we haven’t seen _dozaib_ for so long, I thought that maybe she would’ve wanted something from here, especially since she was stationed there for such a long time.” They look at them both pleadingly, “I didn’t mean to worry you both, I’m sorry.” their eyes fill with tears, and starts to pout. Prih shoots a look of alarm at Mas and they both move to comfort them.

Reaching for their hand, Mas waits until they take it, and smiles. “It’s alright little bird, it was an accident! Please don’t cry.” He then shoots a look at Prih that clearly meant _‘help me’_.

Prih nods reassuringly and says, “Look _llithlle`-un,_ it’s alright. We were just worried, we know you can handle yourself, but well . . .” he pauses, not sure on what to say. 

“We worry.”

Squeezing their hand, Mas lets a sigh of relief when they squeeze back. Looking up at them, they give them a soft smile. Prih smiles back, motions Mas to stay with their youngest teammate, and moves to get the instruments needed to give Mas his check up. Moving to lay on his side, Mas then pats the space next to him. 

They roll their eyes and say “ _Terzaib_ , don’t you think we are both a bit too big to be both laying on this bed?” 

Mas, gasping dramatically, grabs his chest and gives a small sound of pain “Little bird, are you calling me fat?”

Swiping him with their good hand, they both laugh as he fails to evade the move. Quickly moving to stand, he raises his hands and says “Alright little bird, you made your point!” 

They laugh, carefully shifts their bad arm, and takes up his spot. He looks at them with a bemused expression and motions for them to move. Giving him a smug grin, they then pointedly stretch to take up the entire space, exaggerating a groan of pain. He chuckles, and sits easily on the edge of the bed. Looking them over, he notices the smudged, white, ritual, face paint on their cheeks and forehead. Licking his thumb, he wipes off the paint carefully and arranges their dark hair around their bandage, careful not to move it. With an amused smile they lean, and lets him do it, basking in the caring presence of their older teammate. 

After fixing their appearance, he stops, and hesitatingly holds their hand again. “16 cycles. . .your trial is coming up soon,” he pauses, and shakes his head. Mustering a smile, he changes the subject. “Your check ups all in order? No more fainting spells?” 

Not letting go of his hand, they shift their position and look at him with an unreadable expression. “Are you worried about the outcome of my Trial _terzaib_?”

Looking away, he holds their hand a little tighter and exhales shakily. “I’ve heard news of another exile. I know you little bird, and I know you will triumph. But the thought of you in exile, alone out there with the voidkin, or maybe beyond the Gate. . .” he breaks off, and tries to gather his composure. 

They smile softly and remove his hand, then raises their hand to touch his cheek. “ _Dozaib_ , you taught me well and helped me be strong. I will make you proud, and I look forward to the time that I can stand beside you and fulfill my duty when the Hunt begins. Just give me hope, that’s all I ask for.”

He looks them in the eye, and they hold his stare unwaveringly. He straightens and tries to give them his best smile, “Creator, you make me feel old.” He wipes his face and sighs “Alright little bird. I believe in you; know that we love you from the skies above to the deeps beneath.” 

“I know _terzaib_ , and I love you too.”

Then slowly, so as to not disturb their injured arm, he reaches to hug them. They hug him back, breathing in his scent as a comfortable silence begins to settle. 

Prih slowly enters the room and clears his throat, “Alright you two, I gave you enough time. _Llithlle`-un_ , I’m sorry but we have to finish preparations.” 

They both nod at their teammate, and Mas moves to stand. Their teammate reaches out to grab a hold of Mas’s sleeve and says, “ _Terzaib_ , the _Arrbu_ a while ago said I will have to rest here for the remainder of the day, so I might not be able to say goodbye in person. Please have this, and give it to _dozaib_ when you see her.” Letting go, they reach over the side of their bed, and grab two necklaces; leather cords laced with beads and feathers, each bearing the image of the Gate. 

He grabs both and continues to wear his; he smiles once again, kisses them on the forehead and turns to follow Prih for his examination. As they both were about to leave the clinic, they both took turns saying goodbye to them, giving each other enough time for a proper conversation. Then Prih and Mas parts ways, both needing to tend to their side of preparations.

By midday, when all the preparations were done and announcements were made, Prih stood attentively to the side; ready to help if ever his assistance was needed. Mas sees him, and immediately heads over. 

Prih smiles, “I'll look after _llithlle`-un_ Mas, they will be given the best care.”

Mas laughs and hugs him, “I’m counting on you Prih.” 

Prih hugs him back and then lets go. Holding on to Mas’s shoulders, he looks him in the eye and says, “Hey, check on my love you hear? I didn’t want to say anything in front of _llithlle`-un_ awhile ago, you know how they adore her _,_ but I haven’t heard from Uvh in a while, and I’m worried. And the twins, they’ve been asking for their mother, and it’s frustrating not knowing what to say.” 

Mas nods and smiles reassuringly, “It’s difficult to keep in contact, I know. Communication here takes ages! Don’t worry Prih, I’ll give her yours and little bird’s messages of love. Give the twins my love as well though, tell them sorry for not being able to say goodbye. My bribes are in my hut.”

Prih smiles, “Don’t worry you rascal, they will get your gifts. And you will see them soon. The both of you will.”

A loud horn announces the time for departure, and both men say their final goodbyes. 

Getting on their mounts, the entourage accompanying the caravan for _Hih’ngh Thre`_ moves toward the entrance to the forest beyond the village. As midday passes, the sky grows brighter, and they move deeper into the forest. Mas’s fellow _Kasza_ shift in their seats; alert for every possible enemy hiding amongst the tall, dark, foreboding trees. 

Mas takes out his personal map, and using his finger, traces the route that they were taking. From the village to the capitol, he worries his lip as he notices that the path that they were following is taking them dangerously close to the Gate, an occasional hotbed for voidkin. He quickly looks around and observes the trepidation on their faces, as well as it’s accompanying smell. He quickly hides his map and nudges his mount forward, toward the front of the caravan. As he moves, he grins charmingly at his fellow companions, speaking in soothing tones and placating platitudes as he passes by them in a hurry, not particularly careful of who he was jostling. Finally nearing the front, he slows when he sees the woman from earlier that day. Sidling to a pace that matches her speed, she raises her eyebrow as she sees him approach. 

“ _Djawen_ , it is an honor to meet you once again!” 

She looks at him, and nods at him in recognition, ‘You are the _Kasza_ from a while ago. I must apologize, you gave me your name, but I did not give you mine. It is _Rrasdjih’e`nth Pe`ask_ , though you may call me Rras.’

Brightening, he gives her a genuine smile that settles into an apologetic one and says, “ _Djawen_ Rras, it is an honor! I honestly wish I was here to properly exchange pleasantries, but you see—”

A loud roar of agonizing, torturous pain echos through the forest. They all move to stop and strain their senses. But all that could be sensed were the heartbeats of the entourage, the echoing, agonizing roars of pain, and the overwhelming smell of rotting flesh. 

Realizing what was happening, the _djawen_ spurs her mount forward and cries. ‘VOIDKIN! PROTECT THE CARGO.’

Her yell moves the entire caravan. With precise movements, they form a protective barrier around the cargo. As they moved faster through the forest, their forms shifted and blurred, and the air filled with grunts and cries of pain. Many became ensheathed either in fire, lightning or in pure unfiltered energy. Many more transformed their limbs into a grotesque mix of bone, metal, and flesh and weaponized energy; bearing claws and fangs for the enemy. Mas feels himself shift, steam bursts from his flesh, searing his limbs and transforming them into blades so wickedly sharp and gleaming hot, that his own tears joined amongst the cries of agony. He hears the whispers of the Call grow louder; a curse gained from his Trial. The same curse that granted him this power.

But the tortured roar echoed ever closer, until it finally breathed upon them. 

Crashing through the trees, the entire caravan moved to evade it. And immediately the formation split into two, one protecting the caravan, and the other to defeat the enemy. With the caravan ahead, he counts the three people with him; a full team, more than good enough for one voidkin. He turns to quietly observe the mass of flesh and limbs that writhes in front of him. The entire group, never taking their eyes off of it, slowly moves to an attack formation, drilled into them for years in preparation of the Hunt. 

It seemed to have paused, its roar quieting to a rumble. And the movement of its limbs and flesh drip black blood to the forest floor beneath it. The taint of it drains its very life as well. 

It swivels its head; it’s cries reduced to a moan. More black blood gushes forth, drying and killing the flora around it. 

It raises its head, and locks onto the group, and they see mouths that seemed to be a dozen in number, opening and closing, echoing and combining the sounds of suffering that spilled from it. The smell of rotting flesh grew stronger. It opens its main maw, and they see a row of teeth filled to the brim with carcasses of elder beasts in between. Grunts and moans emit from its throat, it’s tongue slowly moving through its teeth and lips, ‘...it...hu... rts...’ 

It slowly moves its limbs towards them. It's breathing labored, sending noxious fumes into the air.

The mouths groaning and moaning, ‘...IT... HURTS...’ 

Taking a step back, Mas’s eyes widen in realization and lets out a horrified whisper, “An exile!” 

At the sound of his voice, it launches forward, swinging its massive claws of flesh in a wide arc, cutting through several of the trees, thicker than an average hut, that lived in that forest. They all avoid it, and steel themselves as they move to strike in tandem. They each attack together, combining their blows and helping each other evade its wild strikes, careful to not let the taint touch them. All of them know that all they need is to create an opportunity for a final attack. Yet for each and every wound that was dealt to it, they all knew that they were hanging on the edge as well. Night has fallen, and they were too far for reinforcements, the only one who was going to survive this, was the first being to deal the deathblow.

Seeing that their team members were faltering, one man recklessly breaks formation and lunges. His many hands, inflamed with the heat of a thousand suns, creates a massive fire ball and aims it towards the exile. But before he could launch it, one of the mouths extended and snaps and grinds him in two, and Mas watches as it recoils and screams as it feels the fire burn through its body. Terrified, one of the team members froze in shock. Mas moves to save him, but their other teammate pushes Mas out of the way as its two claws grab the two remaining teammates and plunges them into its many mouths, severing its own claws in the process. The pool of taint grows bigger, sizzling and burning through the ground, and Mas knows his chances of surviving has gone from slim to none. 

It charges again, and it narrowly misses, giving him a bit of respite. And the whispers of rage and insanity call to him, having grown stronger from his fight with the aberration, this particular one born from the flesh of his people. One of the consequences of a ritual, the Trial of Rebirth, that demanded everything from them; looms in front of his eyes and stirs in his blood. 

Another swipe and another miss, every attack that Mas evades further enrages the aberration. And with every attack Mas lands, it depletes him of his strength. And all it does is feed the whispers. So, he runs deeper into the forest, away from civilization. And it chases after him, hunting, to feed an ache that consumes it. Mas sees his life flash before his eyes. He sees his teammates, his village and the people, all colorful and confident in the variety of their appearance. The places that he has visited all over as a _Kasza_ of his people. He mourns the love that he never experienced. He mourns his continent’s waterfalls, it's cold deserts, the creepy forests with the cold that dug deeper than skin, the tall mountains with it’s awe inspiring views. He mourns that he will never see the dangerous and majestic Gate, with it’s two trees that form a towering arch guarded by the surrounding cliff walls. 

Its roar snaps him out of it, and he grits his teeth in anger. He takes in his surroundings for the first time, and notices a cliff not far off. He could smell the faint scent of ozone, and the smell of earth far, far below. He smiles ruefully and knows that he finally has a plan. 

He looks back, and takes in the trail of taint and the massive, thrashing monster that caused it. Using his limbs, he moves and weaves as he cuts through swaths of undergrowth and vines that lined the cliff. He holds on to the anger, to his pain, and uses it to fuel his transformation, matching every blow that the monster would give him. Burning through its flesh with the heat, he cut and whittled it down until it was a smaller size, eventually trapping it in the undergrowth and vines. Using every ounce of strength left, he pierces through the monster, hooking it with his body and moves toward the cliff side. He jumps, and the monster falls with him. Through sheer will, he continues attacking the monster, burning the taint from his skin, and causing wounds that would kill a lesser being thrice over. All you could see from both he and the monster, was a blur of movement and chaos that plunged into the depths below. 

A massive explosion of sound signifies the end of their descent. And a hush silence fell upon the forest. 

Eventually, all that could be heard were the gusts of wind that flew over the mountains of Yaega. 


	2. Integrated

Frantic footsteps echo through the alleyways, empty of the usual crowd passing through them. As the figure passes several unrecognizable piles of garbage, he topples them over as an attempt to block his pursuers path. He runs faster, eager to head to the masses of people he could hear. His pursuer, spotting the measly attempts at a barricade, leaps to evade them; his long legs using the walls of the building as leverage, he jumps from wall to wall and grabs the nearest ledge; Climbing to the top of the relatively small building that lined this alley. 

The runner looks behind him; spotting no one, stops and tries to control his breathing. Crouching from view, he heads to the dumpster for easy cover. Thinking himself scot free, he pats himself on the back and smiles, proud of himself for shaking off his pursuer.

Suddenly a hand grabs the scruff of his neck and easily slams him to the nearest wall. The runner grimaces in disgust as his face comes in contact with whatever coated it. 

“Really? A dumpster? You couldn’t have picked a harder hiding place?”

The runner scowls and says, “What’s it to you mutt? You’re gonna receive nothing for me.” 

The runner grunts as he is twisted around. With him facing his pursuer, he finally gets a proper look at him. Put-off that he barely looks tired at all, he cranes his neck to look at his face, and sneers. “Gold piercings? They really are hiring the more pretentious pricks, now aren’t they?” 

The pursuer smiles an easy grin, and pins him using one hand. Despite his thrashing, he frisks him quickly and evades the kicks coming his way. Finding no weapon, he grabs the handcuffs by his hip and clamps them around the hands of the runner. 

The runner grunts and stops fighting, realizing that it would be no use. “I usually get a name before I let them cuff me, Goldie.” 

“Goldie? Ha! Better than mutt I guess; but you’re wrong little man, I’m no shifter and even then it ain’t proper to call them that,” The man answers as he secures the cuffs, ensuring that there was circulation.

“Still didn’t give me a name, handsome.” 

The man glances over and gives a charming grin, “Only friends call me by name. Come on, the bounty office has some business with you.” 

Grabbing him by his neck, he gives him a small squeeze as a reminder of what he could do, and carefully maneuvers him out of the alleyway and into the crowd. 

They both blink as the neon lights illuminate the surfaces of the buildings that surround them. Out in the open, the man keeps a firm hold on his target and weaves through the usual crowd that populated the Red Zone of the business district. Calls from prostitutes and hostesses fill the air as they advertise for their respective establishment, the heavy mix of vomit, piss, and perfume fill his nose as he passes through the drunken masses. Finally arriving at a pick up zone, he hails a taxi and nudges the runner inside first. Getting in, he reaches over and puts on their respective seatbelts. He gives the driver the address and relaxes in his seat. The driver turns on the radio and plays something soft, and they all let it fill the silence. 

Finally arriving at a three-story, nondescript building south of the business district, he pulls the runner through the entrance of the foyer and knocks on the desk of the secretary. A tall translucent thing that showed the figure of whoever was behind it and it’s various contents as well. Glancing up from her computer screen, she relaxes as she takes in the man who brought in the runner. 

She swivels and moves away from the computer screen, her tall seat whirring slightly. She smiles at him then looks at the runner. “Jeremiah Ross, I presume?”

“Yeah, that’s me beautiful.” He replies and sends her a sleazy grin, leering at her figure. The man holding him shifts his hold to his shoulder and squeezes until Jeremiah lets out a pained sound. Grunting in pain, he yells out “Ignica’s magitech dildo, fuck! Fine, I’m sorry.” The man loosens his grip. 

She ignores him, turns to look at the man holding him and says, “Boss says you can put him in room 103.”

“Usual treatment then?”

“Yep, the usual,” she replies. 

He nods at her and brings the man to room 103. Taking off the cuffs, he says to the runner, “Well I can read you your rights and all little man, but we both know it’s bullshit. Protocol here is that you get regular meals the longer you are held here, and the bathroom has the basic necessities, A-Net runs for three hours and you have to intermittently reconnect , and the cooling fans are provided for. The fees compound however, so you better settle everything as soon as you can.” 

Jeremiah gives him a sleazy grin and rubs his shoulder, “Any luck with bribing you with a good time for a bit of freedom?” he gestures to the bunk beds lined against the wall. 

The man scoffs and says, “Goodbye little man.”

Locking the door and quickly securing it, he walks back to the secretary to greet her properly. Stopping in front of her desk, he gives her an apologetic smile, “Evening, Ms. Temple. Sorry about a while ago, that guy was a creep.” 

“No worries Mas, wasn’t your fault. Are you here for the papers?” she replies with a smile.

“Shit, there are papers?” Mas grimaces slightly.

Giggling, she reaches under the desk, grabs the necessary papers, and holds it out to him. He takes them and puts it under his arm, “I just wanted to greet you, but I guess I’ll take them. What’re these for anyway?” 

“Hmm, you know. . .the boss didn’t really tell me. Maybe documents?” he hums, and shifts to rest his weight on one leg while he skims the papers. 

She slides fingers through her long dark brown hair and rubs her neck, “By the way, have you had anything to eat? We can head out with Hathie as soon as—” a buzz rings through the air and Mas snaps his hand to his back pocket, and sheepishly looks at her. She smiles reassuringly, and goes back to face the computer. 

Taking out his phone, he fiddles a bit and finds the right button to open the message. Reading it, he returns his phone to his back pocket, catches her attention and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Ms. Temple, the boss wants to see me. Ask me after?” 

“That’s the second time you’ve apologized to me for no reason Mas, you be careful about being this polite you hear? Now go, we’ll catch up later, don’t keep the boss waiting.” She shoos him away with her hand and he chuckles, heading to the staircase to reach the boss’s office located on the second floor. 

It’s been five years since that incident with the exile, and Mas is tired. He feels weaker, and the air and scents are different here. And although he likes his co-workers, he can’t help but long for the comforting scents and faces of his home. He shifts in his clothes, a weathered leather jacket and a comfortable pair of pants that had enough pockets with zippers that he could carefully fill with anything he liked, and sighs. Seeing his coworkers, he quickly smiles charmingly at the twins, fellow bounty hunters that handled the more cybernetically inclined criminals; and casually salutes a scarred woman, his partner in handling crimes of a more physical nature. The twins greet him in turn and heads off to their office for their own paperwork. His partner, still by the table of snacks and drinks, raises her eyebrow. He grins and points his thumb to the black door at the end of the hallway. She smirks and waves goodbye. Stopping in front of the door, he raises a hand and knocks. 

“Come in.”

Rolling his shoulders, he readies a smile and enters, “Hey Boss! Just received the papers from Ms. Temple and locked one Jeremiah Ross in room 103. You got any more jobs for me?”

“Not as of the moment Mas, you’re here so you can fill out your documents.” The Boss, wearing a white suit that framed their body well, motions him to sit at the seat closest to their desk, “You may speak Common, but your writing leaves something to be desired. Almost everything is kept online, but we will practice with the documents I gave you for now. When everything is satisfactory, we will send them ourselves to the city hall.” 

Mas drops his smile and frowns, “I’ve already troubled you so much this year Boss, I’ve done reports and other important documents before, I’d like to do this by myself at least.”

The Boss sees his discomfort and says, “I don’t mean to treat you like a child Mas, procedure is different here. And three years are hardly any time to acclimate to a different culture properly. I was once in your shoes and I had someone to help me then. And I want to do the same now.” 

Mas sighs and takes a seat. He remembers Ms. Temple saying that their boss was from the Eastern continent, and that their appearance usually gives it away. He looks at the boss carefully and traces their features, from their sharp jaw, to their narrow hazel eyes and stark black hair.

“Boss, they say that you come from the Eastern Continent. Which part exactly?” he asks. 

The Boss raises their eyebrows and sits back; steepling their fingers, a flicker of nostalgia passes through their face before settling on a stoic expression, “I come from the north east. It’s been 20 years since I left, though I do still visit occasionally.” 

“Do you miss it?” Mas asks. 

“No.” they reply sharply, a faint accent peeking through. 

The Boss turns away from Mas’s scrutinizing gaze, “No I don’t.” 

Flicking their hand as if to signify that the topic is over; they gesture to the papers, “These documents are important, it will solidify your status as a citizen, and help legal matters significantly. Sign them and raise a question if you need to.” They say calmly, the faint traces of an accent all but gone. 

Mas barely holds back a sigh, and slightly slumps in his chair. 

The Boss pauses, and moves to stand. Grabbing a pen, they move to where Mas is sitting and hesitatingly places their hand on his shoulder. “Mas, I know you must be in pain… Losing everything, it takes a toll on you. And you’ve acted valiantly over these past few years. You are a valued employee and friend, and Ms. Temple wouldn’t have brought you here if you were anything but. Let us help you.” They say, and hold out the pen. 

Mas pats the Boss’s hand, and takes the pen. The boss moves back to their chair, and the only thing heard within the office were the sounds of scratches and the occasional question. Hours later, when the Boss is finally satisfied with his writing, lets Mas go for the day. Mas heads out of the office and stretches. Weary and experiencing a headache, he moves slowly to the office he shared with his fellow bounty hunters.

Bounty hunters, he finds, are nothing more than troubleshooters, chasing down and fixing loose ends that the law enforcement deemed too “ _ unnecessary _ ” for them to handle. He thinks back on a case where they were both called in, him and his partner, and flinches involuntarily as he remembers the smell of cooking oil and fresh blood. He was glad that he had a partner with him, that job was touchy; way too many ways for it to go wrong. Something that their Boss was vehemently against.  _ Clean and neat  _ was their motto, drummed into him through the compulsory seminars, trainings and joint exercises he had to attend the first few years he started working for the Boss.  __

Finally standing in front of the door, he enters and pauses as he notices his partner sitting in his chair, her dark, steel-tipped boots propped on his desk. Leaning back with her arms behind her head, she sends him a smirk and tips her head towards him in amusement, disturbing the dark brown hair styled into a low ponytail that usually hangs over her shoulder. He looks around and notices that they were the only ones in the room.

“There are other available desks Hathaway. Yours especially.” He says tiredly. 

Not moving from her position, she grins and adjusts her dark rimmed sunglasses, “Yeah well, you have the nicest set up Mas, figured I’d get comfortable while waiting for your ass.”

He chuckles, “Right, glad you were comfortable.” he gestures to the desks with the fancy equipment. “Where are the twins?”

She shrugs, “They left a while ago, muttered something about the black market.” 

“Black market? It’s about magic then?” he replies, a worried frown settling on his face. 

Getting up blithely from his desk, she grabs the bag hooked on the side of her desk and swaggers to his side. When she reaches him, she claps his back, “Hey. Don’t worry about them. Handled trouble well way before you came along.” She then lopes an arm around his shoulders, dragging him out of the door.

“Wait! My bag.”

“Got it here kiddo, let’s go.”

He growls, and she growls in return, and begrudgingly follows her, stopping for a moment to close the lights and lock the door. She waits for him to finish and throws his bag at him, giving him another smirk when he catches it easily. As they get off the stairwell and reach the foyer, they both spot ms. Temple standing and gathering her things. Finally gathering everything, a tote bag filled with papers and a heavy looking purse, she spots them, gives them both a smile, and settles her things back on the top of her table. 

“Ready to head out you two?” she says cheerfully with a tilt to her head.

Striding up to her, Hathaway reaches for her purse and Mas grabs her bag. Ms. Temple huffs and says, “Guys, I can handle that! Give me my things, I can’t let you carry them around all day.” 

Hathaway smiles slightly and slings the purse over her shoulder. “Take it easy Temple, the doc says that you have to take care not to add additional strain to your leg, and explicitly said  _ ‘no heavy shit _ ’. This purse feels pretty heavy to me _. _ ” 

Mas makes a noise of agreement, “Just for today Ms. Temple, consider it a reward for dealing with that creep this entire time.” 

“Creep?” Hathaway looks at the both of them and notices Ms. Temple’s uneasy expression and Mas’s falling grin. She scowls, “Tell me his room. I’d like to say a few words.” 

Sending Mas a look of exasperation, Ms. Temple places her hand on Hathaway’s arm and says, “I can handle myself Hathie. A few creepy men won’t put a dent on me.” She gives her a warm smile. 

Hathaway softens and sends her a smirk, “Well. . .in hindsight, they probably won’t be able to that’s for sure.” and squeezes her hand. 

Mas chuckles, and looks to Ms. Temple, “So Ms. Temple, when do you think the guy is gonna be released?”

Ms. Temple sighs and moves her hand away from Hathaway. “Probably tomorrow, he paid his fees and everything but we still need to process the papers.” she says tiredly. She then makes a face and sighs. Hathaway and Mas look at her questioningly. Making a motion for them to wait, she heads off.

Realizing that she was gonna check on him, Hathaway growls loudly and her sunglasses slip a little lower on her nose. Her brown eyes showed a faint golden ring.

Mas, knowing that he has to de-escalate the situation, shoves Hathaway.

Hathaway grunts and Mas looks at her pointedly. When she starts her breathing exercises, he continues, “I still don’t understand why the police bother to send out warrants if they’re not even going to go after these people. And that guy, if he could pay, why did he run?”

Taking deep, calming breaths, finally she smirks at him and says, “You know how the police works kid; if they ain’t rich, It’s not worth their time. Besides, it puts money on our tables.” She smiles wryly and shakes her arms, “As for that particular breed of bastard. . .well, some people just don’t agree with the idea of accountability.”

Ms. Temple claps her hands together, signalling her return, snapping the partners out of the heavy discussion. “Ok! Checked all the rooms and facilities, and one Jeremiah Ross. It’s way past business hours, and I’m hungry. Where do you guys want to eat?”

On cue Hathaway’s and Mas’s stomach growls and they all laugh. After deciding on their next destination, they head out onto the dark city streets of the Business district of Lumaris. 

Mas walks with them as he barely listens to Hathaway and Ms. Temple chat amongst themselves. He smiles slightly as he observes how different the two of them are and how glad he was that they were the first people he met in this strange new world. Hathaway always had a propensity for warm colors and dark leather. Despite her easy grin and tendency to tease; she was impetuous, often leading them on a whim or an instinctual urge to chase a lead. He suspects that’s why the Boss assigned them to each other. Ms. Temple however, likes pastel colors and feminine clothing, with her temperament as soothing and cheerful as the colors she prefers. He loved them both like family.

When he notices that they arrived, he gives ms. Temple a bemused look as they both watch Hathaway announce their arrival with a cheer. Eagerly hauling them all inside, she grabs the nearest table and sits them both down impatiently. 

“I’m starving, so I’ll go and order for all of us. What do you guys want?” 

Ms Temple laughs and carefully massages her right thigh, “I’ll have my usual Hathie.”

Mas gives a thumb up and a smile, “You know what I want Hathaway.”

She nods and leaves to order at the counter. 

Mas chuckles, “I swear, I’m still not used to how much she can order, much less remember it. Is it a shifter thing? Because of their metabolism?”

Ms. Temple snorts, "You're one to talk Mas. You eat almost everything we have in the fridge!" 

Mas chuckles and shrugs his shoulders in reply. Ms. Temple then gives an amused but slightly worried smile, “It is I think; apparently they burn a lot more energy than a normal human. I’m surprised though Mas, shouldn’t you know this by now? This wasn’t taught where you come from?” 

Mas shifts uneasily, his expression dropping, and says, “Let’s just say we had to learn other things.”

Ms. Temple winces, “I’m sorry Mas, I forget that you’re not from here.” 

Mas, upon seeing her expression, rolls his eyes and gives her an easy grin. Patting her on the arm he says, “Don’t worry Ms. Temple. Sometimes I forget stuff too.”

“I’m sure Hathaway can answer any other questions you have Mas.” She looks at him reassuringly. Mas starts to reply but stops when Hathaway arrives with the food. Immediately getting up to help, they both set the dishes carefully on the table as Ms. Temple goes to get the necessary utensils. Digging in, they all descend into easy conversation, relaxing after a long day of paperwork and cases. Looking around and taking in the scents, he finds himself lost in the heady mix of a world growing more and more familiar, yet at the back of his mind, he still longs for home. 

Suddenly a ringtone cuts through the air. And all of them snapped to their phones; it was the same ringtone that everyone at the office used to call for help. Mas, grabbing his phone, tsks angrily when he takes longer than usual to open it. 

Hathaway speaks up, “It’s not my phone.”

“Not mine either.” Ms. Temple says, a worried look settles on her face. 

Finally opening it, Mas pauses as he reads the message.  _ Blckmrkt, RZ entrnce, sect. 3. Brng no 1.  _ Frowning, he looks at the both of them and says, “Ollie messaged me. I have to go.”

As he gets up, Hathaway grabs his sleeve. “You need company?” 

Mas grins, “Aww Hathaway, always knew you cared.”

Hathaway gives him a toothy grin, “Just making sure I don’t get a new partner that’s all, the last one was annoying. And I don’t want to get used to another.” 

“Thanks for the offer Hathaway, but I’ll be fine.” Mas replies. Hathaway gives a nod of understanding, and lets go of his sleeve. 

“You sure Mas?” Ms. Temple looks at him, an increasingly worried frown settles on her face. 

“I’ll get in and get out, smooth and easy. I’ll be home by morning.”

Ms. Temple doesn’t look convinced. 

“He said he’ll be fine Temple. He’s a big guy, and the only people that’ll hurt him are idiots.” Sending her an easy grin, Hathaway touches her softly on the knee. Ms. Temple glances at Hathaways face, bites her lip and nods. 

Mas chuckles and grins slyly, “Thanks for allowing me  _ moms. _ I’ll be going now!” Leaving the both of them spluttering, he chuckles as he exits the little hole in the wall they frequented. 

Getting into the Red Zone was hard. The streets were clogged with traffic, and the blinding colors and lights attached to the tall buildings that held the ads of numerous companies often made for a good distraction. The business district, especially at this time of night, was dreadfully alive. Despite the years he spent in Lumaris, he still feels overwhelmed by the sights and sounds that accompanied the area. It felt like a monster, dragging him in until it spat him back out after it’s satisfied. Thankfully, he has spent enough time to learn its shortcuts and corners. Ducking into one of the alleys lining the tall glass-encased buildings, he leaps and heads up its side. Gaining enough momentum, he moves through the air and lands gracefully on a roof. Surveying the roads and the crowds cutting through them, he easily spots and runs through the fastest route to his destination. Arriving at the roof of the nearest building, he surveys the area carefully and sniffs the air. Smelling nothing, he drops down into the alley next to it and carefully sniffs again. Finally satisfied that he wasn’t being followed, he lifts the sewer hatch, and begins to climb down. 

The Sewers were a winding, intricate network of passageways that encompassed the entire city-state of Lumaris. Divided into sections, only the most adventurous can confidently say that they can safely go through it and come out unscathed. Deep and wide, it rarely flooded and on the off chance that it did, had numerous strategies in place that swiftly ended it. It was also home, however, to one of the biggest black markets for magical items in all of Scepp Aard. Hardly a secret, many knew of the black market’s existence. What was kept secret however, was the ever-moving entrances that dotted across the entirety of Lumaris. And the only people who knew their locations, were either the proprietors of the many businesses within the black market, or it’s many exclusive clientele. 

Dark and damp, a person wandering around would’ve never noticed the strangeness of the rusty, boring, entrance that Mas’s nose led him to. But the scent of ozone cuts through the overpowering smells that always accompanied the sewer, and he knows that he arrived at the right one. He scans the runes carved into the door, the god-tongue magi use for their magic, and bangs a specific pattern at the center of it. He waits a bit, and hears a faint click. The runes glow red as steam slips through the cracks around it, encircling and filling the space around him. As the scent of ozone grows stronger, the door opens wide; showing a yawning and ever shifting darkness. He steps through and after a bit of disorientation, his vision clears and is immediately hit by the atmosphere of the famed black market. 

Despite being a people person, he is nearly overwhelmed by the crowd and the many scents that mix within the space. After softly muttering a few encouraging words to himself in Yaegan, and earning a few weird looks from passing shifters, he moves forward. He spots a few Titans, with their plant-like, mostly androgynous features, selling rare items from the eastern continent at high prices. He sees the magi, wearing robes in the goddess Hidras’s colors, showcasing several of their charms and runic weaves. Artificers standing at their own stalls are highlighted by the glow emanating from numerous crystal animae, encased in fantastic technological marvels. Several potions from the wares of alchemists’ glow and bubble, mingling with the various other scents of the wares found within the black market. Several people within the crowd move fluidly. Flashing their augments for all to see. 

He takes in the sights and briefly wonders if he should get the set of empty rune stones so he can give them to Ms. Temple, until he catches two scents that draw him into one of the more hidden alcoves of the area. Stopping in front of a wooden door carved with the insignia of Grun, the patron god of all things grey. He readies himself, takes his phone out and messages Ollie,  _ I’m here. _

Suddenly, the door opens and a hand grabs him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him inside. Ollie steadies him and immediately starts frisking with special gloves. 

“Well hello to you too Ollie.” Mas says amusedly. 

Ollie looks up from below and smiles sheepishly. When he is finished, he looks behind him and calls out, “Liv! No bugs.”

Liv appears from the shadows, holding an unconscious woman protectively in her arms. Suddenly Mas is awashed by the smell of roses, and he nearly sways closer to the pair of them. Catching himself, he growls disapprovingly at Liv and Ollie. 

“A woman? An  _ unconscious _ woman!? What the fuck you guys!” 

“Hey we can explain Mas! Calm down man.” Ollie turns his baby blue eyes at him and looks to Liv to back him up.

Liv rolls her eyes and says placatingly, “All will be explained in time Mas, but we need your help and we need it now.”

“My help?!” Mas says incredulously. “No shit, this looks pretty fucking bad to me!”

“I told you he wouldn’t be easily convinced.” Liv whispers at Ollie. 

“If you didn’t knock her out then maybe he wouldn’t have to be!” Ollie whines. 

“Look if you just—"

“Shut up, this is all your—”

“Silence.” Mas says in a low menacing tone. 

Liv closes her mouth and does a zipping motion across it. 

Ollie flinches and starts to laugh nervously. 

He sighs and his gaze softens as he looks at the both of them, he turns to look at the woman still in Liv’s arms. 

After a moment, he grunts. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do.” 


End file.
